


Hands-On Anatomy Lesson

by IvoryRaven



Series: Corona Challenge [27]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Gender neutral terms for genitalia, Hemipenes, M/M, Non-Human Genitalia, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safer Sex, Trans Harry Potter, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:41:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24142261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IvoryRaven/pseuds/IvoryRaven
Summary: Harry uses Liquid Luck to ask Voldemort himself how snakey he is.Why? Ginny put the idea into his head and Harry can't stop thinking about it.It's also sort of a sleep deprived impulse.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Series: Corona Challenge [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705024
Comments: 10
Kudos: 331
Collections: Corona Challenge





	Hands-On Anatomy Lesson

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [PestilencePrincess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PestilencePrincess/pseuds/PestilencePrincess) in the [CoronaChallenge](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/CoronaChallenge) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> While hanging out in the Gryffindor commonroom, Ginny poses a question about how snake-like Voldemort could be? Harry is a monster fucker and he breaks into the dark headquarters via felix felices to ask Voldemort himself. Voldemort shows him. 😏
> 
> Bonuses: Harry answers Ginny's question the next day in front of several scandalized Gryffindors. Hemepenis. Trans Harry. No Character bashing.

Harry sat on a sofa with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. Hermione was reading a massive book, as usual, and Ron was watching the Chudley Cannons play against Puddlemere United on what looked like magical television, except Ron could zoom in whenever he pleased, and see the game from different angles.

Ginny and Harry were playing Fuck, Marry, Kill.

Ginny nudged Harry. “Fuck, marry, kill, Malfoy, Nott, Zabini.”

Harry snickered. “Zabini? I’m not marrying Zabini. Fuck Zabini, marry… oh, Nott, and kill Malfoy. Can you imagine me marrying Malfoy?”

“You’d kill Malfoy? He may be a prat, but have you seen him?” Ginny fanned herself. “Fuck Malfoy, marry Zabini, kill Nott.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Malfoy? Really? He’s probably kinky enough, but… can you imagine fucking someone who’ll probably say ‘my father will hear about this?’”

Ginny looked scandalized. “He wouldn’t!”

“I bet he would.”

Ginny sighed. “Honestly, Harry, you have no taste. Are you still stuck on You Know Who?”

Harry licked his lips. “I do have taste! You saw him, Gin, he was delicious.”

“Not anymore,” she pointed out. “He’s all snakey now.”

“Mmm, exactly!” said Harry. “Imagine those scales he’s got on his head, his fingers are pointy and clawed… beautiful.”

“You monsterfucker!” Ginny cackled. “You fancy You Know Who! How snakey is he, anyway? Nobody’s ever seen him with his robes off.”

“I didn’t look when he came out of that cauldron,” lamented Harry. “I was too busy worrying about my impending doom.”

The thought of Voldemort lingered in Harry’s mind long after he went to bed and should have been asleep.

How snakey is he, anyway?

He sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair and sighing down at his chest. He didn’t bother to change his trousers, but replaced his top with his binder and slipped a T-shirt over it.

He pulled the little bottle of Liquid Luck from beneath his bed where he had tucked it and stared at it for a good minute before uncorking it and pouring it into his mouth.

He swallowed it and almost immediately had a sense that he should go to the Room of Requirement. He pulled his Invisibility Cloak over him and made his way to the Room, and a peculiar sentence came to mind.

“I need to go to Malfoy Manor.”

Why Malfoy Manor? Harry didn’t know. But the door opened and he went inside to see a dark wooden cabinet with the door hanging open.

Harry went inside and closed the door.

He felt he ought to open the door again, and let himself out, and that was what he did.

He was not in Hogwarts anymore.

He was in an otherwise empty room. He stepped out of the cabinet, which appeared to have scratches that the other cabinet - and he wasn’t sure how he knew that there were two - didn’t.

The door creaked when Harry opened it and stepped out into the corridor. The sound of voices floated down from another room, and Harry thought he really ought to go there.

The room turned out to be full of Death Eaters sitting around a table, with Voldemort at the head.

“Harry Potter,” drawled Voldemort. “The Boy-Who-Lived. How kind of you to join us.”

“My friend Ginny and I want to know how snakey you are,” Harry said bluntly. “You have claws, and… what else? Anything interesting ‘down there?’”

Voldemort blinked once. “Interesting question,” he said slowly. ‘I might consider answering it.’ he hissed in Parseltongue.

‘Really?’ Harry responded in the same language.

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. ‘You speak Parseltongue?’

‘Uhh, yeah. Dumbledore said you transferred some of your powers to me. Thought you knew that.’

‘I did not,’ hissed Voldemort. ‘Very well. Remain in this room, I will see to you when the meeting is over.’

Harry’s Felix Felices induced impulsivity directed him to sit on Voldemort’s lap, making a show of wriggling around to make himself comfortable.

‘What are you doing, Potter?’ Voldemort asked.

From his new vantage point, Harry could see the horrified expressions of the Death Eaters, and their attempts at disguising the way they flinched at the hissed conversation.

‘I’m waiting,’ Harry said, leaning back. His head fit nicely onto Voldemort’s shoulder, and he could feel the man’s reaction to his wriggling pressing against his bum.

‘Impertinent brat,’ hissed Voldemort, ruby eyes passing over his terrified Death Eaters. ‘Are you offering your body to your Lord?’

Harry stiffened at the phrasing. Still… ‘I think I am, just tonight.’

“Leave my presence!” demanded Voldemort in English. Harry flinched back - Voldemort was hot, yes, but Harry wasn’t suicidal. ‘Not you,’ Voldemort hissed, one clawed hand pressing into Harry’s waist.

The Death Eaters left as quickly as they possibly could - leaving Harry alone with the Dark Lord.

“Shall I answer your question?” purred Voldemort, claws pressing ever so slightly into Harry’s throat.

“Yes-s,” Harry replied, surprising himself with how wanton his voice sounded.

Voldemort grinned wickedly, showing off two sharp fangs where canine teeth should be, and slipped a finger into Harry’s waistband.

“Erm, full disclosure,” Harry said, “I’ve got… um… not normal… bits.”

Voldemort chuckled, the sound coming from deep in his throat and going straight to Harry’s groin. “Me, too.”

“As eager as I am to find out what those are… I really have to… um. I’ve got what most people call a vulva? I think vulvas are kind of girly, so mine isn’t, but it’s kind of the same, because I was born female, I guess, but I’m a guy.”

Voldemort looked taken aback for a few seconds but soon got over his shock. “I see. The Girl-Who-Lived thing wasn’t the kind of misunderstanding I believed it to be. Very well then, should I wish to do sinful things to certain parts of your anatomy, what would you prefer I call them?” His hand slid between Harry’s legs.

Harry felt goosebumps of anticipation pop up on his arms. “Front hole, and - ahhh - click. And don’t touch my chest. The binder stays on, no matter what.”

“I understand,” said Voldemort, finger caressing Harry’s click in a circular motion. Harry tried to thrust his hips into the touch, but Voldemort aborted the motion with his other hand. “Not yet,” he murmured.

Voldemort withdrew his hand and wrapped both arms around Harry’s waist, carrying him for a good five minutes - far too long, Harry thought, to still be dwelling on that one touch - before he reached his bedroom and hissed the Parseltongue password to get in.

The snakelike man set Harry down on the bed and unbuttoned the top button of his deep black robes. Harry’s lips parted. His heart was racing in anticipation, his front hole felt so wet it was probably leaking, and he was salivating like mad.

Voldemort smirked, his ruby eyes creasing, and undid the second button, dreadfully slowly.

“Show me!” Harry begged. “Now!”

“Why, what a demanding boy you are,” purred Voldemort, leaning closer and running a finger down Harry’s cheek. “Will you kneel before me?”

“Yes!” Harry burst out.

“Perhaps, then, I shall be convinced to go faster,” Voldemort said.

Harry needed no further prompting. He dropped to his knees before the other man, and kissed the top of one of Voldemort’s clawed feet. “Please,” he said.

“Very well,” said Voldemort, and swiftly removed his robes, revealing skin the color of the moon, scales creeping down his back, and - Harry gasped - not one, but two penises emerging from slits in the man’s groin.

“What is…” Harry trailed off.

“These?” Voldemort asked, tenderly rubbing the length of one penis. “A consequence of the ritual I underwent to return to human form. Can you take both?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “Both? At once?”

Voldemort just smirked.

Harry wriggled out of his pajama bottoms, observing with no surprise the wet patch left on the crotch. “I want to,” he said.

Voldemort slid a condom (Harry didn’t remember him getting those out, but he had been rather distracted by… other parts of Voldemort at the time) onto each penis, then lowered himself onto Harry, who spread himself on the bed with his legs opened, his hole open. Voldemort eased his tips into Harry, and gently pressed further in.

Harry had never felt so full. Not with Cedric, or Justin Finch-Fetchley, or Seamus, or Dean, or the dildo he had hidden under his bed. Even during the threesome Seamus and Dean had invited him to, he’d never been penetrated by more than one object at the same time.

He wriggled his hips, positioning Voldemort right. It hurt when all the snakelike man’s width was stretching his hole wide, but it was tolerable, and the girth was so great it pushed up against the wall of Harry’s click, the internal part, and he needed more.

Voldemort began to thrust, lazily at first, easing Harry into the sensation. Harry moaned. “Faster,” he asked. “Faster.”

Voldemort obliged, speeding up. He seemed to like this new tempo as much as Harry did, if Harry judged by Voldemort’s panting breaths and hisses.

Harry hadn’t known hissing could be such a turn-on! He tilted his head to reach Voldemort’s mouth and captured it in a fierce kiss, eagerly exploring the sharp fangs with his tongue. He only stopped to breathe, and pepper Voldemort’s shoulders and neck in kisses, sucking on his ear and leaving a red mark on his pale neck.

He brought his hand to the top of his click, and rubbed it in circles, finding himself settling into the same rhythm Voldemort was pounding into his hole. Now being simulated from both sides, it didn’t take long before Harry fell over the edge into climax, and Voldemort soon followed, spurting his warm cum into Harry’s hole.

Voldemort rolled off him and pulled Harry in close. Harry let his head fall onto the older man’s shoulder and enjoyed the brilliant post-orgasmic glow filling him.

Not five minutes later, he was asleep.

Voldemort woke him early the next morning, and arranged for a house elf to bring a set of Draco Malfoy’s old clothes for Harry to wear, sneering at Harry’s pajamas and declaring them unsuitable for traveling. He then called Snape, who looked ready to faint at discovering Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, calmly sitting at the breakfast table with (or more accurately, on) the Dark Lord, being fed from the Dark Lord’s plate by the Dark Lord himself. Snape escorted Harry through the Floo into the Slytherin Dungeons with a horrified look on his face.

Draco Malfoy looked absolutely flabbergasted, but came to his senses soon enough to narrow his eyes at Harry and shout “Those are my clothes you’re wearing!” before Harry left the dungeons.

Harry returned to Gryffindor Tower with a smile on his face, whistling a tune he’d heard Mrs. Weasley playing at the Burrow.

“You’re awfully cheerful today,” Hermione noted. “Wherever did you go? You weren’t at breakfast.”

“Isn’t it obvious, Hermione?” Ron asked. “Harry got laid!”

Ginny came bouncing over. “Harry! Who was it? Not a Gryffindor - we would have seen you this morning. A Slytherin? I don’t think you would go for one of them. A Hufflepuff or a Ravenclaw, then.”

Harry grinned at her. “Oh, You-Know-Who it is.”

She frowned. “No, I don’t… I would have remembered if you’d said…”

“No, Gin. You-Know-Who, that’s who. And it was amazing! If I could die by sex… mmm, that would be the way to go!”

Ginny stared. “You mean - surely not - really?”

“Yup! And Gin. He has two. Two dicks.”

Her eyes bulged. “Two dicks?” she half-shouted, attracting the attention of most of the Tower. People were starting to crowd around Harry, their mouths open in surprise - and horror, in the cases of those who had realized exactly who Harry meant.

“Yeah. Two dicks. They’re huge! I’d say you should see them… but I rather fancy the idea of having them to myself.”

With that, Harry swaggered off to his dorm room to collect his belongings and give the other Gryffindors a moment to process what they had just heard.


End file.
